My letter came from Oxford

19.05.1997 – Mill Grove | London

POV Oliver

For two years, Oliver's days had followed the same pattern.

Lessons with Helen in the mornings. Speech exercises with Bea in the afternoons. Kickboxing with Frank, piano lessons, and church choir whenever Margaret could still find room for them in his weekly schedule.

By now, he could lip-read well enough to annoy Helen by answering questions she hadn't even asked him. He could take a punch without immediately falling over, play more than one piece without constantly staring at his hands, and sing without the choir director asking him to stand a little farther away from the other children.

None of it had happened overnight. Most days, he barely noticed that he was getting better. For a while, Oliver had almost managed to live as though this was all his life was about.

Then he found the magazine.

It was lying on a chair after choir practice. One of the older boys had probably left it there. Oliver picked it up to move it out of the way and froze.

Bon Scott was on the cover.

Not an old photograph. Not a look back at the past.

An interview about what AC/DC planned to do next.

Oliver read the headline again, then looked at the date printed at the top of the page.

May 1997.

That's impossible.

Bon Scott had died sometime in the eighties. Oliver knew that. He remembered the story, the change of singers, the albums that had come afterwards.

And yet Scott was here, decades after his supposed death, talking about the band's future.

Oliver opened the magazine and read the interview. Then he read it again.

For years, he'd been trying to figure out where he'd ended up. In the past as he remembered it? Some kind of fantasy world? Or somewhere else entirely?

He looked down at the photograph.

Whatever this world was, it wasn't the past he knew.

Over the last two years, Oliver had thought less and less about the possibility that he'd somehow ended up in the world of Harry Potter. There simply hadn't been any reason to keep holding on to the idea.

Of course, his eyes had played tricks on him every now and then, like the bus he'd mistaken for the Knight Bus for a moment, or the gigantic white owl currently sitting in the middle of London on the fence separating Mill Grove from the rest of the world.

Wait, what's an owl doing in the middle of London?

"Sister Margaret?" he said calmly, keeping his eyes on the owl through the window.

"Olli?" She looked at him questioningly.

"How likely is it that a huge white owl would just happen to find its way to Mill Grove?" he asked as the owl spread its wings and took off again.

"What kind of nonsense are you talking about now?" Margaret asked, giving him an appropriately sceptical look.

Oliver frowned thoughtfully. Maybe the owl hadn't been there by accident after all. He was about to leave it at that when a thought occurred to him. Eleven years old. Owls. Letters.

Is someone here seriously getting mail from Harry fucking Potter?

Or Hogwarts?

"Did any of the other kids at Mill Grove have a birthday recently and turn eleven?" he finally asked.

"Thomas turned eleven last week. Why?"

"Oh, no reason."

Damn it, maybe this is the world of Harry Potter after all!

***

"Hey, Thomas!" Oliver called out to one of the children heading off to school. "I heard it was your birthday last week. Happy birthday," he said with a fake smile.

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Thomas looked at him in surprise and stopped mid-step. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at Oliver, before finally pointing at himself. "Are you talking to me?" he asked, surprised.

"Is there another Thomas here who just turned eleven?" Oliver asked dryly.

"Um, no?" Thomas replied uncertainly.

"You didn't happen to get a letter delivered by an owl and you're going off to boarding school in September, are you?"

"Tom, come on! We have to go!" one of the other children called before he could answer.

"Sorry, I've got to go!" Thomas turned without hesitation and joined his friends. Oliver watched him leave and caught one of the children asking Thomas, "What did Mr. Wonderkid want with you?"

Oliver shrugged. He knew the other children living at Mill Grove didn't particularly like him. He had privileges none of them had. He lived with Marge in her small flat and had practically been adopted by her.

If they knew Marge was actually a demon disguised as a nun, they'd probably see things differently.

He slowly made his way towards Helen and Beatrice. His lessons would be starting soon anyway, and over the years, Helen had actually managed to find subjects even he knew nothing about.

Halfway there, Beatrice came running towards him. She was holding a letter in her hand and was already stretching it out towards him from a distance.

"L-Letter from Oxfod!" Beatrice called far too loudly. Her pronunciation was still a little slurred, and some sounds didn't quite come out the way they were supposed to, but you could understand her.

Oliver eyed the letter sceptically. What did Bea have to do with Oxford, and why the hell was she running to him with it?

──── ✉ ────

UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD

Programme for Exceptionally Gifted Children

Mrs Helen Hartley

14 Woodberry Lane

South Norwood

London SE25

.

19. May 1997

Re: Oliver Bennett – Invitation for Personal Assessment

Dear Mrs Hartley,

Further to your enquiry and the academic records and results from Oliver Bennett's regular educational assessments that you provided, I am pleased to inform you that our Admissions Committee has agreed to consider Oliver further for admission to the Programme for Exceptionally Gifted Children.

Oliver's results in several areas are significantly above those expected for a child of his age and support your assessment that his educational needs may extend beyond what can reasonably be provided within a standard primary curriculum.

We would therefore like to invite you and Oliver to attend a formal assessment at the University of Oxford. This will include a final academic evaluation, as well as a discussion regarding his education to date, his future academic development, and possible admission to our programme.

Should our initial assessment be confirmed, Oliver may be offered a place from September 1997 at one of the residential schools affiliated with the programme. His education would be individually tailored to his level of ability, with the opportunity to attend selected subjects alongside older pupils where appropriate.

A child's financial circumstances are not considered a barrier to admission. In the event that Oliver is offered a place, 50 per cent of the cost of tuition, accommodation, and board will be covered through government funding. Additional merit- and means-based bursaries are also available. Any remaining contribution may either be met privately or financed through the Educational Support Loan Scheme.

Details regarding any proposed school placement, accommodation, and financial arrangements would be discussed with you following a successful assessment.

We kindly ask that you confirm the enclosed proposed appointment and look forward to welcoming you and Oliver to Oxford.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Edmund Harrington

Director, Programme for Exceptionally Gifted Children

University of Oxford

──── ✉ ────

Oliver stormed into the sitting room with Beatrice in tow, where Helen was already waiting.

"Helen, what the hell is this?" He held the letter out to her. "Why would you do something like this without asking me? Does Margaret know about it?" he fired off.

Helen had clearly expected this reaction. "You mean why we applied to the Programme for Exceptionally Gifted Children?" she shot back. "Olli, we're talking about a special programme run by the University of Oxford. Oxford! One of the best, if not the best university in the world!"

She spoke excitedly, giving Oliver no chance to respond.

"We knew how you'd react, so we kept it to ourselves for the time being. We wanted to make sure they were actually interested in you before telling you," she explained.

Oliver knew, of course, what Oxford could mean for his future. Until recently, he'd had no doubt that he would be successful in this life. But Bon Scott, a singer who should have been long dead in the future he remembered, had made him question what he knew.

What if his knowledge about companies like Apple, Microsoft, Netflix, and the rest was just as unreliable?

"What about Bea and—" He stopped himself.

What about Marge?

She needed more and more help with everyday things. God, she was seventy-four now, and ever since her fall last year, she'd become increasingly unsteady on her feet.

"Beatrice, please give us a moment alone," Helen said.

Oliver looked at Bea, who clearly had no idea what was going on. She was still standing in the doorway between the hall and the sitting room, visibly torn over whether she should actually leave the two of them alone.

Beatrice looked at her mother, then at Oliver. Finally, she turned and headed towards her room.

Helen got up from the dining table and closed the door.

"Beatrice and I are moving to Nottingham. The Paediatric Cochlear Implant Programme. They want Bea in their study."

Helen paused, studying him as she waited for a reaction.

"That's good, right?" Oliver asked uncertainly.

Helen nodded. "It's what's best for her. And Oxford is what's best for you."

Oliver took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He needed to calm down.

Oxford?

Deep down, he knew Helen was right. Oxford was Oxford. The name alone could open doors for him later in life, regardless of how much he could actually still learn there. And boarding school would give him freedoms that a seven-year-old simply didn't normally have.

He looked down at the letter still in his hand, then at Helen, who was watching him expectantly, and finally out of the window towards Mill Grove.

Oliver took another deep breath and let it out.

Finally, a small smile began to form at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at the letter once more and thought:

Fuck you, Harry Potter!

My letter came from Oxford—and it was delivered by a deaf girl.